Unsung
by comingbacktolife
Summary: It didn't take long for her best friend to notice. She was happier, she laughed more. Goodness, she couldn't help herself. The man was a bundle of irritating positivity.


**Author's Note : If you've come all this way, just review it. :-)**

_Unsung_

He wouldn't know.

She wouldn't ever let him know.

He had ridiculed her formally, when they just happened to meet through friends. She had remained silent, loathing him passionately, trying to think about other things. _Any _other thing as long as it didn't remind her of him.

Because when she remembered the things he said to her, she landed up being a pathetic fool challenging her own existence.

And she _liked_ her existence, so he could go jump off a cliff and she'd still sing happy songs, bake chocolate cookies and laugh openly.

He had taken her aside once. Told her what he thought about her. It made her want to run away from him. Far away.

Because what he told her was true.

It had taken him a lengthy five minutes to see through who she was.

And she completely, absolutely, totally had _no_ clue what hit her.

Her thoughts were scattered, her feelings mingled. All she thought was what he said. All she felt was his stupid voice never leaving her. He acted so civil and _nice_ to others, what was wrong with her?

Sometimes when she saw him acting absolutely friendly with other people, she closed her eyes and tried not to see red.

How _dare_ he walk in and say things to her the first day they met? He didn't even _know_ her. What right did he have to rip her image of herself right out of her and _then_ proceed to tell her she was not all that she thought? Who did he think he was, God? So people respected him, he was popular, he was everything everyone wanted to be! That gave him _no_ advantage over other people! She hoped she had remained expessionless when he was speaking to her. She hope she didn't give away what was brewing inside of her. She hoped he hadn't cracked her.

She hoped she wasn't transparent.

He made her feel like she was wearing _only_ white whenever it rained. Not blue, or dark green, or purple. Only white. Those bad days when you step out wearing white and it rains. Those days where nobody seems to be around when it rains. Those days when umbrellas aren't known and it seems like they weren't invented at all.

So there he was, making her feel angry, transparent, confused and all the emotions she usually avoided. And he didn't even have a clue.

Or maybe he did. Being him. And he was just acting as if everything was great and she didn't exist.

Well, she wasn't going to act as if he existed either. He didn't bother her. She was as opaque as a brick.

* * *

Then, one fine evening, when everything was gold because of the setting sun, they met.

And everything changed.

She admits now that it was awkward to be talking to him after a long time of not talking at all. It was by some miracle that a civil conversation started. It ended with him asking her to stay longer and talk, but she had to leave. He seemed like he genuinely wanted her to stay. But she wasn't going to get her hopes high. Here was the man she loathed some years back, and he was still the same. He still needed only five minutes to look through a person.

And she honestly had no clue why he, of all the people, and after so many years, found _her_ to be interesting.

Wasn't she, in his own words, lost in the crowd? Hadn't she, as he had claimed, lost her identity? She was just a tag along, a follower, and could never lead according to him. So what was it that made him want to talk to her more?

She walked brisquely, avoiding turning back to look at him, and only turned to shut the front door as she reached home.

She tried to forget their meeting the next day. He obviously hadn't changed. He'd go back to tell Black and Lupin that he had met the weird girl from school. Yes, the one with the red hair and green eyes.

So it would be an understatement to say she was surprised when she saw him waiting that evening at the same place as before.

He smiled. She blinked.

They ended up laughing like maniacs as he walked her home. And this time, she turned to look at him walking away as she reached the front door.

Days passed. And so did many golden evenings. There were times she couldn't make it, so she'd let him know. And he'd do the same.

Every night she'd think. Did he even remember the things he said and did to her in school? Why was she talking to him at all? Had she forgiven him? Had he even done something that was wrong? Did forgiveness even come in the question? She didn't know. She tried to know, but she didn't know.

They met and he shared things that secretly troubled him with her. He'd tell her his fears sometimes, but she never opened up to him. She only listened. Her issues were solely hers.

He asked her one day, when they were sitting at the Library steps. He asked her why she never shared. Why she never trusted. She changed the topic. He cut her across and told her what he thought about her. That he thought she was scared of being vulnerable. And being vulnerable wasn't dreadful. And that she could trust. Maybe not him, but anyone else. She needed someone.

She learned so much when she was with him. He made everything seem so unnecessary and minute. Life was so short, and there was so much to do. So many things.

He complimented her sometimes. And she could feel herself blush. But then she straightened herself. Maybe he was doing all these things for her so that she could feel good about herself. She wouldn't put it past him at all.

Sometimes she became surprisingly quiet around him. But she guessed he was used to it. They'd both sit in silence, his head on her lap, looking at everything and everyone. She was getting used to his presence.

She began to realise what made him so special with everyone. Why he was so popular while they were in school. But she still couldn't understand why he told her all of those things at that time and never repeated the same things when they met each other again. She was sure she hadn't changed. Had his opinion about her changed?

He was so infuriating! She was beginning to notice the small things he did. He smiled like no one else did. And he smiled at everyone. His laughter was contagious. She could smell him when he was a lane away. Then again, she was beginning to smell him anywhere.

It didn't take long for her best friend to notice. She was happier, she laughed more. Goodness, she couldn't help herself. The man was a bundle of irritating positivity.

She watched him with other girls. He was the same with other girls, only that maybe he didn't share as much. But the complimenting, the talking, the smiling, everything was a replica of what he did with her.

She began to think. What was it that made her different for him? Was she even regarded as something different _by _him? Her thoughts took a different route. And now when she met him, she was beginning to hide like before. Sometimes she'd see him blink at her change. But then it would be gone. And she would be left thinking she was the same as everyone else.

One day he happened to mention the girl he met at work. He was telling her about how efficient this girl at work was.

Somehow, she knew it wasn't the last time they'd discuss her.

She saw him fall for her. Slowly, but steadily. And supposedly the girl seemed to be reciprocating. He tried to act nonchalant when he spoke about her, but he was a bad liar.

He was such a bad liar.

And one day, she broke.

She cried, but only enough to storm up a mini tsunami. Her best friend hugged her, and she must have used alot of tissue, because she vaguely remembered using her friend's sleeve.

A friend, maybe that's all he took her to be. And here she was, feeling special and wanted. What _was _she thinking? But this time, it was different. She wasn't going to blame him. He was the same with everyone. And everyone hadn't succumbed to his behaviour. She felt so, so stupid.

Someday, she'd ask him why his opinion had changed about her. Why they had hit it off after a bad start. Someday she'd tell him why her opinion about him changed. But not today.

Ironically, she completely, absolutely, totally had _no_ clue what hit her. Again.

But he wouldn't know.

She wouldn't _ever_ let him know.

**Author's Note: I've written after a really long time, so I know I'll be needing loads of brushing up. :-) If you have the time, a review would be greatly appreciated.**


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